My Dearest Elizabeth
by myriadharbourchallenger
Summary: Their love story told through a collection of letters sent to one another, beginning with a response from Elizabeth after Darcy's letter after his failed proposal, in which he explains about Wickham.
1. Elizabeth's Apology

_From Hunsford Parsonage in Rosings' Park, 10 o'clock in the morning_

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I would not be offended (nor surprised) if you cast this letter aside immediately, for I have done you a great disservice; pardon me, however, when I ask that you read it thoroughly, so that perhaps your righteous ire towards me may fade. I write this letter with the deepest regret in my heart, for I have misjudged not only one, but two gentlemen, so completely that I feel I know them hardly at all, when I throw my misconceptions to the wind. The irony is not lost on me, sir, that I, who prides myself on realistic and accurate (or so I hoped) sketches of character, have so dramatically misunderstood two men, and it is with this regret and travesty that I sincerely apologize for my harsh words two days ago, I spoke with a naïve and mistaken mind, and I cannot convey to you in words how sorry I am. I don't think I could bear it if I hurt you, which, I regret to say, was my design in the beginning. Now I understand that I misunderstood you from the very beginning of our acquaintance, and I am more regretful for that than anything else.

I must confess that I have read and reread every sentence of your letter, wishing to discredit it entirely, if only for the sake of my own feelings. You see, I did not want to experience the discomfort I do now that I was wrong, and that I hurt you. Your letter made me reconsider every moment I have spent with you, as well as Mr. Wickham, as well as the moments I observed Jane and Mr. Bingley. If I may, I would like to share with you the moments in which my prejudice towards you began, and my pride was wounded.

When I first saw you at the Meryton assembly, I cannot deny that I thought you were extremely handsome, but you seemed like present company was beneath you. I know now that you were uncomfortable with the situation, but this observation, as well as your unwillingness to dance, and your disdainful regard to the company, in addition to a conversation I overheard you sharing with Mr. Bingley effectively wounded my pride, and caused me to see you as vain and arrogant. My esteem injured, I was all to ready to accept Mr. Wickham's story. Looking back, it is all too clear that he was not a trustworthy source; a true gentleman would not boast of being fearless while running to the hills, nor, put himself forward as Wickham had done. A gentleman would not have looked to ruin your reputation after you had left the country. I am appalled I was not struck by the impropriety of it all until I had read your letter. My heart goes out to Georgiana, and I am very remorseful that I befriended the kind of man that could hurt a girl of but five and ten years to such an extent.

I do not think I will ever be able to express to you how much I wish I could've seen Wickham for what he was, and then became friends with you without any inhibitions; for I enjoyed your company at Rosings and imagine we would have gotten along better had I not believed that your character was so compromised, and I can only bear to imagine the great friends we may have overcome, if you had overcome your shyness and I my prejudice. I think I would have quite liked becoming friends with you.

I would like to reassure you that what you have shared with me will remain in my confidence, and that I will do my best upon return to Hertfordshire, which is tomorrow, incidentally; to keep my sisters and other young ladies of my acquaintance away from the gentleman. I hate to call him that, Wickham barely deserves the name. I would not like to hurt Georgiana anymore than she already has been, so I will leave her completely out of my account against him, and be as discreet as I am able.

Now, I must address the other charge I laid against you, which you defended in your correspondence. My dear Mr. Darcy, I can only apologize, most profusely, I assure you, for my sharp words the night of your proposal. The things you said against my family; the impropriety you observed on display from my relatives and related to me; the level of distaste at which you held my mother's unsubtle manipulative matchmaking, I cannot deny that I agree with you. Although I love them dearly, at the Netherfield ball, I was appalled by the loud ramblings from my mother on Jane's "advantageous" marriage, incredibly embarrassed by Lydia's and Kitty's flirtations and silliness, and even disappointed with Mary and my father, my favorite relative, for their behavior. It was only a tenfold more embarrassing that you, the one person I hoped most would not take note of it, the one person I wished wouldn't observe my family's humiliating manners, would not only notice, not only bring it up to me again, but to also struggle with it for many months, as you fought your attractions towards me, as something you had to overcome, shames and pains me. I was not offended by your words, only shocked at the truth of them, and stunned that a gentleman like yourself _could _in fact, overcome them. Please pay no mind to my words, for they were said in the heat of a moment in which my emotions were high and my mental processes not working as quickly as my sharp tongue. I regret many of the things that I said, and hope that you may be able to pay these words no mind.

And finally, what you said on behalf of your interference of Jane and Mr. Bingley's relationship, as much as I would like to be angry at you for their separation, I cannot. My dear friend Charlotte, who knows Jane second best only to me, confided to me that she felt Jane's regard was not strong at all, and she acted as if she had not the slightest inclination of being truly in love. Perhaps, even, the only reason I observed Jane's affected air was because I knew for a fact that Jane was in love. I admit my sister is modest and shy, even more so when her heart may be at risk, and I cannot fault you for thinking that she was indifferent, especially with my mother's loud talk of Jane's duty to her family echoing in your ears. In addition, Bingley is perfectly capable of making his own decisions, and I cannot place all blame on you.

And now, knowing very well that I may well never see or hear from you again, I will close with this: I was very flattered by your proposal, Mr. Darcy, despite how I expressed myself. I care very deeply for your sister, Georgiana, although I have never met her; my heart goes out to her for the pain she has had to deal with, and I have enjoyed very much getting to know your cousin, Col. Fitzwilliam. I cannot help but wonder if we would ever become good friends, if we weren't inhibited by pride and prejudice. So I close with an offer: I would like to continue correspondence, and become closer acquaintance, if it is in your favor. I would very much like to get to know you better. If, however, you do not wish this, simply do not reply to this letter, and know that no matter what, I will always hold you in the highest regard.

Yours,

Elizabeth Bennet


	2. Darcy's Cold Response

_From Pemberley, 7 o'clock in the evening_

Dear Ms. Bennet,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, safe, after your journey home to Longbourn. Please accept my sincerest apologies for the delay in my response to you letter; I have only just received it, because I have been out of the country on business. I hope this impediment has not caused you grief. I fear you believe it was not my intention to respond to your letter, thereby refusing your proposal of friendship; I hope to assure you that I wish to continue correspondence with you very much, and if you so desire, I would be pleased to have the honor of your friendship.

I have returned to Pemberley, and I cannot express to you in words how wonderful it is to be home. I am sure you understand me, having just returned to Hertfordshire yourself. The country here is magnificent; if you ever find yourself in Derbyshire, I am certain you would find the loveliest paths to walk upon; I know I enjoy horseback riding more in this country than any other place I have visited on earth. It is wonderful to be home, but even more wonderful to see dear Georgiana again.

She has improved remarkably since I last saw her only a few months ago. Her air and manners are lighter, and I can even spy a smile grace her features every now and then. She have noticed her to laugh more, and stay in company longer. Despite this, I still worry greatly for her. Her companion, Mrs. Annesley, tells me that she is still reluctant to go out with friends, and that when she does entertain she is taciturn and shy, and invitations have stopped coming.

I wish there was something more I could do for her; I feel so lost. I have thought, for some time now, that she needs a woman's company, and that I myself cannot alone suffice. I care for her a great deal, more than anything on heaven and on earth, and it is killing me to see her this way. (The next line and this paragraph have been struck through by Darcy. Elizabeth can make out what he is saying here, but the next line she cannot.)

I am very sorry, madam; I have stepped over every line of propriety, it is inappropriate for me to speak of my sister to you in this way. I should return to the matters of our last letter.

I appreciate your disclosure regarding Mr. Wickham. It relieves me that you know the kind of man he is, and that you are sharing this information with the other young ladies of your acquaintance . I should have exposed Wickham for the man he was immediately; a stronger man would have. I appreciate you leaving Georgiana's name out.

I told Bingley that the eldest Ms. Bennet was in London, and that I believe he should come to Hertfordshire for the hunting season and try to win her affections again. I have no idea whether or not he believes me; you see, he was persuaded that your sister has no regard for him, and is reluctant to risk his feelings. If this means anything to you, in all of the years I have known Bingley, I have never seen him this affected by a woman.

Excuse my brevity, but I have other matters to attend to.

Darcy

**A/N: I know this letter is SUPER SHORT, but I have more on the way, and I wanted everyone to see how closed off Darcy was after the paragraph on his sister. What was the line he marked out? Does he not want Elizabeth's friendship? Why is he so cold at the end? Review and maybe I'll tell you ;)**


	3. Elizabeth's Reaction

From Longbourn, 9 o'clock in the morning

Dear Mr. Darcy,

Thank you for your correspondence. You were quite right when you guessed in your last letter that I believed you did not want to accept my offer of friendship; however, I must disclose that I am not sure if a friendship such as ours can exist in this manner for two specific reasons. Firstly, despite my steadfast interference, my mother spied your signature from across the sitting room as I read your last letter, and then hunted for the envelope, not resting until she found Pemberley's address written in your script. She, of course, brought it at once to my father, who could not be bothered to care less for it. He is of the mind that correspondence is uncompromising and unharmful, as I believe; but my mother, of course, could not wait to pounce on an opportunity to make my virtue appear to be compromised and marry me off. Fortunately, I am not mercenary, and I will not use your words against you to force you to marry me. But, if she happens upon another letter, my mother's nerves will never be the same. I am sharing this with you firstly because I want to warn you about my mother, who, despite her nerves and silliness, I care for almost as greatly as she vexes me in trivial matters, wants to force you and I into matrimony; but also secondly, because it did not occur to me until my mother was standing over me, holding your envelope accusingly in her hand and eyes wide with apprehension, the impropriety of our correspondence. I equated it to how I correspond with Charlotte or Jane when I am away from them, but of course you must have thought my actions inappropriate, and I assure you that if you feel this steps over the boundaries of society, I will never pen a word to you again. (However, I must relate to you how much respect I have gained for you in the passing weeks since I last saw you in Kent, and how I do think of us as friends, which justifies my equation of you to Charlotte.)

This is not my only hesitation to continue correspondence, however; nor am I discouraged by the brevity of your letter. No, sir, it was not the length, but the tone which gave me pause. You began in a friendly, if reserved tone, and then became progressively more cold after mentioning your sister. Although I am delighted that Bingley will return to Hertfordshire, and that he does still care for Jane, I would also care very much to hear about your sister, of whom I have heard nothing but the highest praise from everyone I know who is acquainted with her. I know she is a significant part of your life, and when I am writing to a friend, I want to hear about their lives. Mr. Darcy, I do not wish to offend you, or step over "all bounds of propriety" as you stated, but I do want to be your friend. I do wish to learn about your life, and the life of your sister, as well as anything you would wish to pen to me. If this correspondence continues, I assure you that I will frequently write about my silly sisters not only because of the lack of excitement in my daily affairs, but also because I care deeply for them, and I enjoy talking about things I care about with my friends.

I do not know if it stems from my regret of judging you so harshly, or my astonishment that I knew your character hardly at all, or merely my boredom now that I have returned to Hertfordshire, but I cannot stem the desire to know you. However, if you, dear sir, do not wish to let me get to know you after I have slighted you in such a way, or if you feel it is inappropriate, do not hesitate to pen me a brief response, telling me that you find me to be a silly country girl who doesn't know the bounds of society. I will not be offended, only disappointed.

I will also understand if it is too painful to write to me. My slight of your character was deep and not easily forgivable, and I am astonished that you can even speak my name without going red in the face with rage. Please do not write to me out of obligation or sympathy. I am speaking the truth when I say that I understand. I was astonished that you wrote me back at all.

Yours,

Elizabeth Bennet

P.S. I was reading through this letter, and astonished at my open tongue. I apologize if I have offended you or have been too sharp or clear with my words, I must admit that as I am writing a letter I write more openly than I would speak, and with much less consideration to the weight and severity of my words.

**A/N: Sorry for the delayed update, I am working on many stories right now as well as a severe amount of homework, and FanFiction slipped through the cracks. I hope you like this letter, and I will work on posting Darcy's reply as soon as possible (possibly tomorrow or REALLY late tonight if this lapse of writer's block continues-I think it's classical music that's helping me focus. That or the rain.) Please tell me what you thought of Elizabeth's reply? Did you think she was going to be more angry? I addressed the impropriety of the situation, which I conveniently ignored when I was toying with this idea. I don't want to say that Elizabeth doesn't care about propriety, only that she thinks that in this situation, she has done nothing improper. Anyways, predict how you think Darcy will respond. Will he be open about how he was feeling while writing that last letter? Does he think Elizabeth is guilty of duplicity? Do you think he will continue to be cold? **

**Also, tell me if you want Georgiana to correspond with Elizabeth at some point, and later on in the story, include letters to Elizabeth and Darcy (respectively) from Jane, Bingley, (The) Fitzwilliam(s, Lady Catherine, Mr. Bennet, etc? After all, love stories don't just include the two people involved. **

**Let me know, I love your feedback. **

**And know, even though this is the longest Author's Note in the history of the world, and the amount of bolded letters here is really intimidating, I am going to plug my other stories-feel free to move on if you aren't a Hunger Games or Harry Potter fan, but if you ARE, please check out Broken Children of District 12 and Harry's Eighth Year. **

**Thanks! xx-M**


	4. Darcy's Drunken Confession

From Pemberley, 11 o'clock at night

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

I am responding to year letter immediately after receiving it, which was only moments ago, close to eleven at night, after I had drank a significant amount of port and am tired enough to speak straightforwardly and with candor, as I would hesitate to in the morning with a sharp and alert mind full of inhibitions. Forgive me if I offend you or proceed without a trace of eloquence, but I think you deserve to know, for the second time in both of our acquaintance, the full extent of my thoughts and feelings towards you.

The first matter you addressed in your letter was that your mother stumbled upon my letter, and thought it was dishonorable and that I had compromised you. You say you disagree, and that this is the manner in which friends communicate over long distances when there is no other option. While I may not agree with you fully on this matter, for I must confess that you are the only female with whom I correspond other than my relations; I must also confess that I have often thrown impropriety to the wind when it comes to our relationship. After all, if I had been mindful of society's rules, I would have sought out your father and asked to court you before asking you to marry me in Kent. If I had been mindful of society's rules, I would have done a lot of things differently.

And this, of course, brings me to address the second claim made in your letter. That I was cold in my reply to you, and that you wish to hear of my sister and life. I will readily admit to you that my last letter was brief, awkward, and unattached. I am aware that I seemed cold and not desiring of your friendship, and to be truthful, I do not desire your friendship.

I desire so much more. Forgive me if this makes you feel uncomfortable, for this is not my intention, and my design in my last letter was to prevent you from feeling any discomfort at all. When I struck out the lines of my last letter, it was because I was readying to say that I hoped a female influence would have a positive affect on Georgiana, and that I hoped when I married that she would find a new confidant in my wife, all but directly saying that I had hoped you would be someone Georgiana would share her secrets with.

I was cold because I feared that you, with your sharp mind and excellent conversational and social graces, would read between the lines and see my unyielding love for you. I do not mean to slight you, but I wish with all of my heart that it would move on to another woman, that you could tempt and haunt me no longer, that I could live each day without wanting to give you the world. I would move mountains to give you what you desire, all that you desire, which is why I cannot simply write a short reply to your letter, and discontinue acquaintance forever and live the rest of my days with another woman, with any other woman.

I wish I could stop caring for you, but I cannot. I cannot settle down with another woman, for I would be the most miserable man in existence. I would imagine it was you managing Pemberley, long for your quick conversation and quick wit as I conversed with my wife, I would want my children to have your lively eyes.

What have you done to me, Elizabeth? How have you bewitched me so?

And now, after insulting me in the greatest way, after telling me I am the last man in the world you would ever wish to marry, suddenly I am the man you most wish to become your friend? My dealings with Wickham, someone I desperately wish to forget, is the only reason that you respect me, that you wish to know me? It is painful, madam; I am lying on the ground bleeding, gasping for air, trying desperately to fill my lungs with fresh oxygen, but I cannot, Elizabeth, I cannot because you are not only the knife piercing me, but also the air in which I breathe, the only air I can breathe. The only air I want to breathe.

How can I be your friend? How can I only be your friend, how can I live with the mere suggestion of a breeze, knowing that I want, I need a rush of air to survive.

In truth, I am grateful that you rejected me in such a manner. You called upon my faults, which I was so blind to. I admit, I was rude and arrogant when it came to your families, many other families in Hertfordshire; simply because I was uncomfortable...uncomfortable at the Meryton assembly because I had beheld an angel, an angel that I couldn't have, an angel that I couldn't love; uncomfortable calling on the Lucases knowing that Lord Lucas had given me an opportunity to dance with an angel with eyes that saw into my soul, and I turned him down because my pride would not accept that I was enchanted by a country gentleman's daughter. I was uncomfortable, I couldn't breathe in fear that I was going to run into you on the street, run into you in someone's house, and make a fool of myself again, proving myself to be unworthy of your affections again and again.

It was a relief to go to London, a relief to get away, to relax, to be comfortable in company again, except that it wasn't the same. At the singular ball I attended after leaving Hertfordshire, I kept looking for a pair of lively eyes, to hear a vivacious laugh, to see a beauty clothed in emerald and glowing with the joy of splendid conversation. It was then I realized that what I was feeling wasn't relief-it was cowardice. I wasn't more comfortable, or relieved without your presence. I willfully mistook a rapid heartbeat and suddenly feeling like I was simultaneously swimming and drowning wasn't discomfort, it was affection. I was drowning in my affection for you, and now that I was washed unceremoniously ashore, separated from you again, I longed, oh how I longed to be drowning again. I had to be near you again, even if I struggled, even if I couldn't contain my overzealous heart.

And in Kent, in Kent, it was in Kent when I realized that I wasn't drowning, really, and if I was, it was the most pleasant experience of my life. Falling feels like flying, at least for a while, at least with you. Talking with you at Rosings, I felt like I was soaring. You made me feel like I could fly, until my feathers blew away with my inhibitions on that fateful rainy day, and everything came crashing down.

And now, now, you want to become my friend, and hear about my sister and my life, and tell me about yours, and I cannot deny you, no. I would move mountains for you, my knife, my air. I would do anything for you to be happy and content for the rest of your days. I would do anything for you, my dearest Elizabeth.

But how can I? How can I sit back and read about your life as it comes by you, how can I act as a friend when you send me tidings of your eventual engagement, or of your children? How can I read about your life-the life I want to share with you-as an inactive participant?

I know I was a fool to think that you loved me, or could love a proud, arrogant man like me. But, as much as my pride and arrogance would wish for me to move on, I cannot.

So where does that leave us?

My bottle of port is nearly gone, as well as my composure. I will leave this letter for the morning, when I will most likely tear it up and toss it into the dwindling embers.

Foolish as it may be, seeing as you will never read this, I will bid you goodnight, Elizabeth. Goodnight my knife. Goodnight my air. I wish I could give you what you want. I wish I would be content to be your friend.

Always and forever yours,

Fitzwilliam

**Sooooo... Darcy got drunk and bared his heart for Elizabeth, thinking the next morning he was going to tear the letter to shreds and toss it in the fire, and write a nice, neat, _warm_ apology to his ailment and his cure, and keep his feelings under wraps. But...the way I see it, that could happen and Elizabeth will continue to be in the dark about how deeply Darcy cares for her, or Darcy's butler could see the letter, see that it was addressed to Elizabeth and that the first paragraph declares that Darcy wanted to reply ASAP, and sends it express, knowing the Bennets address. REVIEW AND TELL ME IF YOU WANT IT TO BE SENT OR NOT! And maybe I'll actually take your opinions into consideration ;) xx-M**


	5. Darcy's Regrets

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

By now you must have gotten my letter, which if I may emphasize, was written while I was not in my sharpest state of mind. I did not mean to send that letter, as I am sure you gathered, but to destroy it; but alas, my attentive butler saw it early in the morning and sent it, seeing that I had intended to reply to you as soon as possible. You see, very often, I will leave finished letters on my writing desk and the next morning, my butler will address them and send them. He does not usually do this with letters of a personal nature, but he saw that I had closed the letter and knew your address from the envelope lying beside my post.

I am terribly sorry if my letter caused you any discomfort or distress. You must certainly know that it was never my intention for you to read it. In fact, if you will cast it aside and pretend you never saw it, I would be forever grateful.

For the sake of your wellbeing (and I daresay my own) I do hope that your mother does not stumble across my last letter before you do, and perhaps I should start referring to myself as Mrs. Collins while writing you in the future, assuming you want to continue correspondence after my improper and pathetic letter. I cannot tell you how much I wish I had thrown it into the fire when I had the chance.

Truly embarrassed,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

* * *

**A/N: So the butler sent it! Truthfully I was always planning to have Elizabeth reading it, but I wanted y'all's opinion. So what does everyone think about Darcy's explanation? In my mind, I imagined that Darcy sent the second letter express, and the first by normal post, so Elizabeth receives both letters at the same time. Which should she open first? How will that affect her reading the other letter? How do you think she will respond? Tell me in a review! **

**(I also know this is a very short letter that did not tell you any new information, so I will update again soon, but I want everyone's feedback, also!) **


	6. Elizabeth's Echo

From Longbourn, eight o'clock in the evening

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I have read your letter a hundred, maybe a thousand times; I do believe I have it memorized. I know in your second letter, you said that you wish to never speak of it again, and I know you wished that I had never seen it, but I am glad I did.

I have not been affected by port, or any other alcoholic substance, but I think with my confusion and array of emotions, you will find that my writing here is as straightforward as yours. I do intend to send this, however I will not still my tongue or pause my pen, so forgive me if I offend you, for I mean to write straight from my heart, with little interference from my brain. (This is what usually gets me in trouble, but I will continue.) Now, to borrow a phrase from you, for the first time in our acquaintance, _I_ will be the one sharing the full extent of my thoughts and feelings towards you.

And what contradictory emotions that I will express! Oh, Mr. Darcy, you continue to astound and riddle me at every turn, for I can never be completely sure that I have fully outlined your character. For the majority of our acquaintance, I thought you to be a proud, arrogant man who had no time for the thoughts and feelings of others. But my entire perception of you was shaken to its core, and now, I have no idea what to think of you, what I think of you.

Darcy, it did not start out this way, no, of course it didn't. It all started when my mother announced to our sitting room that Netherfield Park was finally let, and began bullying my father to meet the famous Mr Bingley. She was in raptures about his fortune and our good luck, how he was surely going to marry one of her fine daughters. Fed up with my mother's nerves and my younger sisters' silliness, I was already predisposed to hate the man.

So at the Meryton assembly, as my mother is dragging me forward for an introduction, I am determined to find Mr Bingley and all of his company disagreeable. But when I meet your eyes, I am struck and suddenly find it difficult to breathe, for you are, as I'm sure you know, a very handsome man.

This was my first impression of you. That you were the most handsome man of my acquaintance. But then, I learn that your estate earns 10,000 a year, and then you refuse to dance with me. Then I overhear you telling Bingley that I am not handsome enough to tempt you, and I can no longer overlook the arrogant esteem in which you hold yourself, as though the people in Hertfordshire are below you. (However I guess I cannot hold this against you, for in fact you _are _above the people of the country, and it was only my wounded vanity that caused me to hold this against you.)

Your money had anything to do with my disregard for you. I have no objections to your money, I just recognized that your wealth set us apart, and that I was not nearly worthy of you.

As you were proposing, I'll admit I was hurt by the things you struggled to overcome before you could admit your affection for me, because I knew all the things you struggled to overcome were true, and although at the time I must admit that I was not overcome with affection for you, it still hurt to know that I wasn't worthy of your attentions. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After my vanity was wounded in Meryton, I met Mr. Wickham, who shared with me another account of your arrogance and general ill manner, and I was all too happy to accept it as truth, because...

They say in hindsight vision is perfect. I think, among other reasons, I wanted to believe you to be disagreeable because I couldn't bear to think that it was _me. _

I wanted _you _to be the reason you weren't interested in me. I wanted _your _arrogance and _your _pride to be the factors that caused our relationship to fail before it even started, not _my_ measly dowry and country manners. I wanted to have control of the situation, and reject _you, _and not face the pain of being rejected.

That was why I perceived your frequent gazing to be scrutiny. I wished for our conversations to be filled with proof of your disdain, and my angry wit, and so they were. Of course I didn't-couldn't-realize this at the time! And when faced with your proposal, when you overcame all of these encumbering obstacles, and I realized that you did care for me, even love me, it was too late! My opinion of you was already set, and I could not go back on my opinions, not when I was so sure I had accurately drawn your character, not when you had thrown all of my insubstantialities in my face. I was hurt, and confused, so I pressed forward with my bleeding heart, my mind withdrawn from conversation, not interrupting before I slighted you so greatly.

Then I am confronted with your character, what I know is your true character, not a collection of assumptions surmised by an offended woman, but an account of friendship, love, and compassion, and what am I supposed to feel, knowing that I cannot be with you? Knowing that I denied the proposal of a man that I respect, suddenly trust, and believe to be kind and true? Knowing that a proposal isn't going to come again? Not knowing my thoughts from my feelings, my true regards from the things I wish to feel. Am I mercenary? Do I only find myself caring for you because you are a wealthy man who asked for my hand? How can I trust my own emotions and instincts when they caused me to hurt and misunderstand you?

You say I am your suffering and your relief, but you, Darcy, you are a thunderstorm raging in my soul, in my heart, striking me when I least expect it, surprising me with your gentle drops of water contrasted with your passionate lightning and your brooding sky. Despite how much I love sunny days, I must confess the rainy ones are my favorite, especially if I can stroll in the garden in the evening, after the rain has made everything anew. My mother has always complained of me ruining my dresses, but I have never minded a little mud.

You ask me how you can live with the suggestion of a breeze, when I am the knife causing you to gasp for air as well as the oxygen you most desperately want. My only advice is that we must do our best to continue getting air at all, and my question for you is this, simple and straightforward: will you believe me when I tell you that I have regretted my response to your proposal since the moment it escaped my lips?

I do not know how we will go from here, but my hope is that I can continue to breathe. That you can continue to breathe. And maybe, one day, our breaths will be deep and air fresh, as if it has just rained, and the water has cleared the air and brought fresh life to the world around us.

Yours,

Elizabeth

P.S. My aunt and uncle Gardiner are taking me along on their tour of Derbyshire. I believe they intend to stop at Pemberley, but I would understand if you wish we remain distant from your grounds.


	7. Darcy's Invitation

Dear Elizabeth,

Forgive me, for perhaps that is too informal; however, I do not regret it enough to rewrite it. I do not regret anything when it comes to you. I have asked your aunt and uncle to give you this letter when you return to the inn, as well as an invitation to dinner at Pemberley tomorrow evening. I want you to meet my sister very much.

I wonder whether you agree with the weather here in Derbyshire; I wonder if you miss your sister Jane while you are away; I wonder if you are closer with your aunt and uncle Gardiner than I first thought; I wonder a thousand things, because you are on my mind every waking moment of the day.

When I first met you, I thought it would pass. I thought my feelings for you would fade away like a dream after you wake up; faintly and quietly, gone before you realized it was there. I thought going back to London would wake me, that separating myself from you would be like awakening my mind from its raptures, but no, you continued to haunt me. _Haunt me. _I couldn't work, I couldn't sleep, my every thought was of you.

In Kent, it was better and it was worse. The most delicious poison. Because you were there, in front of me, but forever out of reach.

And then you turned me down. You reminded me that I was a proud man and you woke me up.

I am awake now, Elizabeth. I am a better man because of you. You have made me a better man since the very beginning of our acquaintance.

You may regret turning me down, but I never have, for you deserve much more than the man who proposed to you at Rosings that day.

You deserve the world.

I am grateful that you decided to come to Pemberley even though I never replied to your last letter. I read it a million times, but no words seemed to describe the array of emotions I was feeling.

Dine with me tomorrow, Elizabeth. Please.

Maybe you can help me make sense of my feelings.

Yours,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

**A/N: I am planning on doing a "sister" story to _My Dearest Elizabeth. _I am going to continue writing this story in the form of letters, but I am going to write another fic corresponding to this one with Elizabeth and Darcy face to face. I'm not sure what the story will be called or when it will be up, but I wanted to let everyone know where I plan to go with this story and others. The "sister" story will begin right before this letter is sent, when Darcy and Elizabeth run into each other at Pemberley. I think it will have rotating POVs. **

**Thanks, and REVIEW :)**

**xx-M**


	8. Elizabeth's Acceptance

Dear Mr. Darcy,

Thank you for the dinner invitation. I am writing to assure you of our acceptance, as well as my gratitude that I came to Pemberley as well. I look forward to seeing more of your grounds tomorrow as we dine together, as I mentioned during our brief meeting in your rose garden, I could not get very far into your home today. I am forever more revealing to you in print as opposed to real life, so I will tell you this, and you are free to think poorly of me, as I do of myself...to have given up the opportunity to be mistress of such a home is saddening to me. Please do not think me mercenary, I only think that Pemberley may in fact be the most beautiful place on earth and I would happily live there for the rest of my life.

I should wrap this letter up now, for my aunt and uncle are much more attentive to the length of my letters than my dear mama, and they believe I am simply accepting your dinner invitation.

Yours,

Elizabeth

P.S. I was short of breath, as well.

* * *

**A/N: So maybe some of you didn't get all the references in this letter. KNOW WHY? Because they are allusions to THE MERE SUGGESTION OF A BREEZE, the prose version of this story, which I posted like fifteen minutes ago! Go check it out, and review, and follow, and then come back, and read this again. **

**I want to know what everyone's prediction for dinner will be. Maybe Georgiana and Elizabeth will set each other off poorly? Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner will see through Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy? Idk, you tell me. **

**Review, I love you all :) xxxxxx-M**


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